


Innocent Explanation

by QueenAlien94



Series: Behind Closed Doors [5]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 11:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5332892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenAlien94/pseuds/QueenAlien94





	Innocent Explanation

_Marco’s Day_

“Marco, what’s this? I was-”

“Hang on, babe,” Marco cut her off. He was on the phone to Pierre, trying to establish what on Earth was going on. He had received a call from Tuchel that morning, telling him that Mats was potentially being rested for the match that afternoon and for him to prepare to be the Captain. Which really wasn’t something he needed to hear just a few hours before the match took place. He employed a very different strategy to Mats, especially against teams like Werder Bremen, who engaged a strong defence yet relatively weak attack and so he was contacting the main players to inform of the change in strategy.

“What is-”

“Pierre! Look, I’m really fucking busy right now so can you tell everyone in the starting eleven to be at the stadium an hour earlier than planned? Right, thanks bro, see you later.” Marco hung up the phone and sighed before dialling Tuchel’s number.

“Marco! What is-”

“Babe, please! Hey boss, we’re going to be at the stadium an hour earlier than planned, that’s cool, yeah?” Marco was on the phone for the next ten minutes, expressing his concerns regarding his captaincy for the upcoming match. He ran through his defensive and attacking strategy, all of which Tuchel happily approved. In the corner of his eye, he somewhat noticed Bree standing back up and flouncing off to their bedroom and he made a vague mental note to ask her what she wanted once he got off the phone. But after his phone call with Tuchel had ended, he received another from Pierre and soon that mental note had been forgotten.

Just an hour later, he hastily grabbed his kit and his keys and made his way out of the apartment.

“Bree!” No answer, “Bree! Bree, I have to go! Good luck for later baby, I love you!” He didn’t receive an answer and thought about going to investigate but he was already late so he let out a frustrated sigh and left the apartment in a rush.

While he was in the car, driving to the Signal Iduna Stadium, he sent Bree a message.

_Were you sleeping when I left? Lol, I was late, sorry I had to leave so quick. Good luck for later, I can’t wait to see your comeback, it’s gonna be amazing! I love you xxx_

_Love you too, see you later xxx_

Marco smiled as he read the message but, in doing so, he noticed that he hadn’t bothered to even brush his hair yet. Everyone knew how anal about his hair he was and so he fumbled around in the glove compartment and finally found an old comb in there. About a fortnight or so earlier, Bree’s car had been in the garage so she had borrowed his to go shopping with a friend. Said friend must have used his fucking comb because now it was all matted with blond hairs. Marco had been meaning to clean out the hairs since he’d discovered it and kept getting blond hairs in his own when he used it. He kept meaning to tell Bree about it just in case she got the wrong idea but kept forgetting.

Didn’t matter, it’s not like she’d ever think he was cheating or anything.

_*_

Marco was buzzing. Borussia Dortmund had just won against Werder Bremen thanks to him scoring two goals and assisting the third. They ran off the pitch to raving applause from their yellow wall of loyal fans and there was an instant party in the changing room. The music was blasting from the speakers and everyone in the team was jumping, dancing and the room was filled with loud laughter and hyper voices.

“Reus! How dare you score more goals than me, you bastard!” Pierre shouted above the intense noise, throwing his arms around his teammate.

“He’s the Prince of Dortmund, the little shit!” Mats shouted. The atmosphere was electric and that was just how Marco liked it. There was nothing worse than coming back to a quiet changing room with a damp atmosphere. Everyone had adrenaline coursing through their veins and no one was more excited than Marco in that moment. He had won the match for his team and, just three days earlier, he had become engaged to the love of his life. Life was pretty damn sweet.

“Bro,” Pierre lowered his voice and leaned in to him so that only Marco could hear him, “Isn’t Bree performing in like two hours?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So she’s going to be wearing the ring!” Marco’s eyes widened.

“Oh shit, yeah,” Marco swore under his breath before spontaneously jumping up onto the benches, “Guys!” No response, no one had even noticed what he was doing, “Hey, you cunts, shut up and listen to me!” He yelled and every member of his team immediately shut up and Sven turned down the music.

“Make it good, Reus!” Someone shouted, making him grin.

“So you guys all know that Bree is performing at the Dome tonight and…well, she’s going to be announcing our engagement!” Cue shrieking that was really far too feminine to have come out of the Borussia Dortmund changing room. Mats, Sven and Miki immediately jumped up on the benches and engulfed him in hugs before the rest of his teammates dragged him down and have him rather hearty, congratulatory claps on the back. Some of them asked how he did it while others (read: Mats) asked about the ring. Some teased him about how corny his proposal was while a few of the others berated him for being a cheapskate and proposing in his apartment.

After ear splitting excitement amongst the team, they eventually piled out of the changing rooms and into the carpark. It was nearly seven o’clock and Marco had to get to the studios on the other side of Dortmund to see Bree’s performance at eight thirty, sharp.

“Bro, don’t you at least have time for a drink?” Pierre asked as Marco rushed across the park to his car, jumping straight in.

“I literally have ninety minutes to get to the studios, get changed, go through hair and makeup _and_ get seated. I have no time!” Marco didn’t even wait for Pierre to respond to him before he slammed closed his car door and pulled out of the parking lot, heading onto the main road. With the (thankfully) calm traffic, Marco kept one hand on the wheel and fumbled for his phone in his back pocket where he found a text message from Bree.

_If you’re not here on time, I’ll break your balls xxx_

Marco smiled at the message and put his foot down. He didn’t particularly like that he had to arrive at the studios wearing his sweaty jersey and an old pair of jeans he’d hurriedly shoved on in the changing rooms but at least there would be a crisp suit waiting for him. No doubt someone would manage to photograph him looking a right state, though.

_Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I love you, can’t wait to see you! Xxx_

After speeding across town, Marco arrived at the studios with fifty minutes until Bree’s performance and he flashed through security, parked his car and ran inside. He rushed over to the reception-type area where everyone would go once they arrived to find out where they were supposed to go.

“Ah, Mr Reus. Right, you’re in dressing room zero-seven on the left wing of the studios.” The receptionist handed him a key.

“Thank you, do you happen to know how Bree is getting on?”

“No idea.” She shrugged, “But she did request that you stay away from the right wing of the studios, she doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”

“Sure thing, thank you,” Marco took his key and rushed over to the left wing, finding the hair and makeup girls waiting for him. The first thing they did was wipe his face and neck clean of the stale sweat he hadn’t cleaned off from the match that ended barely two hours earlier. Then he was brushed with matt powder, his eyebrows were plucked and shaped and his fingernails cut. With no time to waste, he was yanked to a sink and his hair was quickly washed, dried and styled. With ten minutes to spare, he pulled on a dark grey three piece suit and excitedly left the dressing for the studio.

As was standard procedure, one of the organisers for the venue took his ticket and directed him to his seat. The hall was full since the show had started an hour earlier and, with it being televised on RTL – Germany’s most popular television channel – the place was packed with cameras, too. He was sat on the front row of the main stage – presumably where Bree would be performing – and, as he took his seat, Marco took a deep breath to calm his nerves and looked around. There were plenty of faces that he recognised but no one that he actually knew personally so he sat tight for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest.

Finally, the lights lit up on the stage and the chatter throughout the hall died down – signalling that the programme had just come back from an advertisement break and the next performance, _Bree’s_ performance was about to start. It was the closing, headline act and it was her official comeback. Marco just _prayed_ it went well.

While the front of the stage was lit up, the back of it was immersed in complete darkness. As _The Dome_ tended to do with their headline acts, a short video made especially for the occasion began to play about Bree. It was set to one of her most successful songs, _Long Time_ and started with a clip from her debut music video, onto one of her first televised performance on _TV Total_ and the clips started to be cut together faster and faster and subtitled with her achievements

**_Eleven Number One Singles_ **

**_Biggest Selling German Solo Artist of the 21 st Century_ **

**_Sixteen Echo Awards_ **

**_Grammy Award Nominated_ **

**_Over 10 Million Records Sold_ **

The crowd were deathly quiet, like Marco they were anxious for what they were about to see. The screen went black while the stage lit up to a set of wide, rounded stairs leading up to where Bree was standing behind a gold microphone stand. She looked incredible. She wore a long black dress with long, lace sleeves and a huge skirt – almost meringue-like – and a train that extended way behind her, around and down the steps. Her hair was piled high on her head and her eyes were framed with thick, smoky dark makeup.

There was no music when she started to sing, slow and controlled.

 _“I know that sometimes_  
_You feel I’ve given up on you_  
 _The heat seems to defeat you_  
 _Kill you when you feel you can’t go on…”_

But a heavy beat filled the room when she raised her voice and sang the next line:

_“But you can’t blame nobody but you!”_

There was an almost deafening crescendo and a dramatic amalgamation of violins, piano, guitar and drums began playing. The dramatization of her performance was so beautiful and she caught the attention of everyone in the room with her powerful vocals and command of the stage and the entire studio, even when she was simply standing behind a microphone. When she reached the chorus, the hall exploded with life and Marco’s entire body stung with goose bumps as she projected her voice to a level he had never heard from her before. The power was remarkable.

 _“Please know I will be right here_  
_Always reminding you we need_  
 _Togetherness, ‘cause love has no room,_  
 _If you forget us_  
 _Forget me…_  
 _You can’t blame nobody but you!”_

The rich music died down and lulled into a soft piano. In her flowing skirt, she descended gracefully down the steps with a coy smile upon her face. Marco was on his feet, beaming as he cheered and applauded her. He knew that his reaction was being televised and he also knew that the cameras were doing close ups on her left hand, no doubt the photographs would be all over the next morning’s issue of BILD. Watching how she took control of the stage, how she sang at the top of her voice, how every eye in the place was completely fixated on her…Marco could hardly believe that this was his woman who lay in his arms at night. He seriously couldn’t believe he was going home with her. She was absolutely beautiful.

“Get the point? Good! Let’s dance!” She called out and ripped off her extravagant skirt to reveal a leather mini skirt underneath. The beat changed to one with the heavy bassline controlling both the beat and her steps. The music was dark and heavy but sensual and when she started to sing, her voice matched it. Unlike the first song, Marco had never heard this one before. It was sexual; he had _never_ heard her sing a song like this.

 _“4 Play_  
_Every day_  
 _Baby…_  
 _I’ll keep you on the down low_  
 _‘cause I want it my way…”_

Bree caught the attention of everyone in the room and when she reached the chorus, the hall exploded with life as she launched into a captivating dance routine with at least two dozen backing dancers behind her. Yet, despite their presence, she was the one who commanded the stage. Like the best, she had the natural ability to move perfectly with the beat of the music.

The end of her performance came too soon for Marco and he was on his feet, applauding and cheering wildly as Bree beamed and blew kisses to the audience. She soon skipped off the stage but the applause didn’t die down and Marco felt his heart swell with pride. He was so proud of her, her performance was absolutely phenomenal – he just knew that it would be all over the newspaper, the internet.

The second the live feed was cut and the cameras were switched off, Marco practically sprinted out of the studio hall and headed straight for his dressing room. He wanted nothing more than to go to Bree’s dressing room, of course, but he knew that after a performance, she wanted to be alone in complete silence with no exceptions. She liked to lie down for a moment and get her mind stilled before jumping in the shower and slipping into a fluffy cream robe. Marco smirked to himself. He was _definitely_ going to fuck her in that dressing room.

In a desperate bid to try and pass the time, he pulled out his phone to check his messages. If it was possible, Marco was even prouder of his woman after reading the appraisals from his friends and teammates. His sisters had sent messages, his friends, most of the Dortmund team, too.

From Pierre:

_Dude! She was fucking fierce! Bro you are a lucky man x_

From Mats:

_Prepare for us to be singing that 4Play song to you in the showers. You are forever humiliated x_

_Seriously though, fucking incredible performance x_

From Miki:

_Bro…I’m jealous._

Marco simply couldn’t wait anymore so he grabbed the bouquet of red roses he had bought for her and headed out of his wing of the studios to the other side. He passed the reception area and gave a friendly smile to the woman he had spoken to earlier but she, with a worried look on her face, stood up and hurried over to him.

“Mr Reus, Miss Walker has asked me not to let _anyone_ in her dressing room!” She exclaimed and Marco looked at her, confused, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but she didn’t mean _me_ ,” He said, his tone having something of a _duh_ undertone.

“Miss Walker’s assistant gave specifics instructions for me not to let _anyone_ , including you, disturb her. Please, I understand she is your partner but I am just trying to do my job here. If you can get her to contact me then-”

“With all due respect,” Marco said with a roll of his eyes, “Bree is my fiancée and I’m going to go and see her, ok?” Before she could stop him, Marco marched passed her with something of an irritated sigh and headed down the hall before reaching a dressing room with _Bree Walker_ emblazoned across it.

He didn’t bother to knock.

In hindsight, he really wished that he had.

***

_Bree’s Day_

When Bree woke up that morning, she turned over to find the other half of the bed empty. With it being match day, she knew that he was probably already up and about, having a last minute panic. She rolled out of bed and with bleary eyes, wandered into the en suite bathroom. She stripped off and stepped under the hot water of the shower, sighing happily as she woke up to the day of her comeback. She was so excited but now the day had come, the nerves were suddenly – and violently – kicking in. For a long moment, she let herself be immersed in the hot water and she closed her eyes as she forgot about the stress of the day ahead. Bree comforted herself in the knowledge that her manager had made her do an excessive amount of rehearsals and she had practised both the choreography so obsessively that she was positive that she could do it in her sleep.

When she fluttered her eyes back open again, she leaned back against the marble wall and her mind was just about to wander off again when her eyes fixed upon something on the shower wall opposite her. Bree blinked, frowning as she stared at the long, blonde hair smeared across the Italian marble.

“What the…” She murmured as she picked the hair off the wall and twirled it around her fingers.

With her scarlet red hair and Marco’s short, dark ginger hair, it _definitely_ didn’t come from either of them.

Bree’s mind instantly went into overdrive. She tried to tell herself that there could be a million innocent explanation for it. She had never doubted Marco before – he had never given her reason to – and she never wanted to be one of those women who blindly accused their partners of affairs without asking their side of the story first, even if the evidence seemed rather conclusive.

But then, a hair on the shower tiles was hardly conclusive evidence, was it? For all she knew, one of her friends – plenty of them had blonde hair – could have shed a hair when they hugged and it _somehow_ could have gotten on there. That was possible, wasn’t it?

Bree stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a fluffy purple towel before heading back into the bedroom and hastily getting changed into some casual loungewear. She retrieved the hair from the bathroom wall and, with a shaky deep breath, took it into the lounge. Marco was sitting on the sofa, running a hand through his hair as he frowned, clearly frustrated for whatever reason.

Bree tried to catch his attention but he kept dismissing her. After the third attempt, she growled, angry and stormed off back to their bedroom. She quickly got changed, grabbed her handbag and headed out. She doubted he even noticed her leave.

She headed straight for the television studios on the outskirts of Dortmund. They weren’t expecting her for another few hours so she phoned her manager and choreographer, asking if they could do another few rehearsals on the main stage.

“Sure, I don’t see why that would be a problem, though I really don’t think it’s necessary. You’ve got the routine down.” Her manager, Sarah, reassured her.

“I’d really appreciate going over it a few more times, it’s got to be perfect right? Plus, I haven’t rehearsed in my outfit yet so we should definitely do that as soon as possible. Look, I’ll be there in ten minutes, see you soon!”

Bree rehearsed, both in the dance hall and on the main stages for the rest of the morning and early afternoon, only stopping at around three to grab a quick lunch. The rehearsals had kept her mind off the blond hair issue and when they stopped for lunch, Bree found herself becoming rather irritated at her fixation on it. There was no reason for her to paranoid about it, there was probably an innocent explanation for it.

Bree picked at her Caesar salad as the thoughts ran around in her mind and jumped when she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket.

_Good luck for tonight! I managed to get the flight – I just landed at the airport so I’ll definitely be in the audience! Sooooo excited haha xx_

_Thank you so much!! I’m so happy you made it, Marco will be so happy to see you too! Hey, come to my dressing room after the show yeah? We’ll give Marco a surprise :D xx_

_Sounds awesome :) see you soon! Xx_

Bree tucked her phone away and finished the rest of her salad.

There _was_ an innocent explanation for that hair, wasn’t there? There had to be. There just had to be.

There…just had to be.

*

Bree wanted to cry when she came off the stage. It had all gone perfectly to plan. _Nothing_ went wrong, which was always something to be hugely thankful for when you were performing on live television. She was immensely happy with her vocals, she had pulled off her choreography routine spectacularly and the crowd had gone absolutely wild for both songs. She had been so nervous to debut the _4Play_ song – it was just so different from anything she had done before – but everyone in the crowd seemed to love it. The atmosphere had been absolutely electric and she couldn’t help but wonder why on Earth she had been away from the music industry for over three years. There truly was nothing more thrilling than performing in front of a studio packed full of people.

With her manager, choreographer, hair and make up artists and her publicist and personal assistant all heaping praise on her as she headed back to her dressing room, she blocked out their voices. She just wanted to get to her dressing room and lie down for a moment. She accepted a bottle of water from Beth, her assistant and, as soon as she got to her dressing room, her ‘entourage’ disappeared. They knew that disturbing her right now wasn’t a good idea so she let herself in and shut the door behind her.

“You were incredible,” Bree yelped and spun around in something of a panic, laughing at herself when she saw who it was.

“Thank you, that means a lot,” She grinned, blinking through tired eyes, “Have you seen Marco yet?” He shook his head.

“No, we were seated at different places. I was quite far back actually, that’s what you get for showing up late at these places.” Bree smiled and offered him a seat on the plush sofa, which he happily accepted. They chatted for about ten minutes, excitedly talking about her performance. Well, it was more Bree babbling about her performance while he just sat, nodded and allowed her to get the excitement out.

“Where’s Marco at? I thought he would have been straight in here after that performance you just did!” He asked while Bree just shrugged.

“I have no idea. I told the receptionist to let him come down as soon as possible, so I have no idea what’s keeping him.” Bree jumped up off the sofa and flung open the door, looking both ways down the corridor before shutting the door again. When she turned back around, she jumped slightly as he was up off the sofa and standing really rather close to her.

So close in fact, that when he began to speak, she could feel his breath hot against her cheek.

“Do you ever think about us?” He asked and Bree couldn’t help but drag her teeth slowly over her bottom lip swallowing hard, hesitantly.

“Sometimes,” She shrugged, trying to act casual, “It was a long time ago and we hardly see each much now do we? What with you living on the opposite end of the country now.” Bree was trying to act cool but her heart was pounding.

“I still think about us,” He murmured, “I still think about _you_.” An arm snaked around her waist and though she didn’t return the physical contact, she also did absolutely nothing to refute it either.

“Marco is going to be here _any_ second, you know that right?”

“You just did an incredible, _sexy_ show out there and he couldn’t even be bothered to come straight over to congratulate you? I could never have done that when we were together. _Impossible._ ” He held her close and started to kiss her neck. Bree wanted to push him away and slap him around the face but then the blond hair in the shower flashed up in her mind.

There _wasn’t_ an innocent explanation for it. How could there be? _No one_ blond had been in their apartment. He was a cheating cunt, she told herself.

So she took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply, passionately. His kiss was so familiar, almost comforting. The way he held her, the way he groaned into their kiss and the way he-

The door burst open and they hastily broke their kiss, jumping away from each other like guilty teenagers to see Marco standing in the doorway with a dozen red roses lying by his feet, having been dropped in shock.

_“Mario?”_


End file.
